Just hold on
by GirlFromNorth
Summary: In My Time Of Dying AU. John Winchester never made the deal to save his oldest son's life; Yellow Eyes saw no reason to stop Dean from dying. "Dean, you've got to hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again."
1. Chapter 1

**Alrighty then; this one differs from my other stories - it's completly in outsider POV and not really how I usually write. I had fun writing it though (I think I might be a little bit evil, but who isn't in this fandom?) but I managed to give it the worst title ever. Damn. ****This is an AU to season 2's In My Time Of Dying -**

**Poor Dean. Poor Sammy. Evil GirlFromNorth.**

**That's probably all you need to know.**

* * *

It's not that he didn't want to hunt, not at all; he was actually thrilled to go on a hunt again, promise, but this wasn't a hunt he wanted, nope.

"But seriously Rob," he whined and chose to ignore that he sounded like a spoiled brat "a _hospital_?"

A grumble was the only reply he got.

"I mean, people die in hospitals daily, why do we even have to check this out? There's been nothing that indicates a haunting except for some random dude who saw a random dude walk around in the hallways shouting for someone and let me tell you, that's _not_ something that has anything to do with our kind of business."

"Why don't you just shut up, Evan."

"Come _on_, I know I screwed up the last hunt" _sort of_ "but why is this even worth our time?"

"For the record, several people have seen this man walk around in the hallways, and let's not forget that those who don't see him walk _right through him_. Yeah, so it's not a big lead to go on, but I got a call from Stevens yesterday-"

"Who the hell is Stevens?"

"A _doctor_ who just _happens_ to work there and I owe him a favor. He knows about us hunters and he's starting to get worried about the apparent spirit sneaking around, and I don't know about you, but it'd be damn nice to stop it before it starts killing somebody."

Evan huffed and jumped up as Robert strode out of the motel room without looking if he was following. They had been hunting together for some time now and Evan suspected the older man was doing this only to annoy him. He _knew_ hospital gave Evan the creeps. Perhaps it was some sort of punishment for nearly getting eaten by that wendigo last week… To be fair, an easy hunt was probably the only thing they could handle right now – quite frankly they had gotten their asses kicked during the last one. As a bonus the demon activity was sky-high, had been for years, and to handle a normal haunting seemed like a relief.

Oh well. Guess they just had to find this sucker's bones and burn them, end of story.

* * *

Riverview Hospital was just like any other hospital, and just like any other hospital it made Evan feel uneasy. Too many dying people, dead people, mourning people, desperate people and apparently ghost people as well, if the EMF meter Robert was pushing into his face was anything to go by. Robert's grin was gleeful and his entire being screamed out _what did I say, what did I say, I was right_ and Evan did his best to look dignified.

A quick flash of fake ID's _(health department my ass)_ and they were quickly allowed to take a look around in the hospital. Sometimes Evan thought it was far too easy - not that he was complaining or anything.

Doctor Stevens appeared to be very relieved to see them ("I don't want any supernatural freak near my patients, thank you very much") and gave them access to the hospital's files over the deceased patients.

"Like that's going to help us," Evan muttered gloomily. "Hey Rob? How are we even going to figure out who this is? It's a freaking _hospital,_ man, it could be _anyone_."

The glare he received told him to shut the hell up before Evan became the spirit to hunt.

The interviews weren't exactly helpful, but it seemed to confirm that they were dealing with a confused, lost spirit.

"It's a damn annoyance, that's what it is," an old man in his hospital bed informed them. "I don't understand why they allow him to walk around at night, screaming like that… You'd think it'd be strict around here, important for us patients to get a good night sleep, but every night it's the same thing, the same yelling, sometimes even in daytime."

"What is he yelling, sir?" Rob asked politely, picture perfect of a good undercover.

"Oh I dunno… It's a name, that much I know, maybe… Emmy? No? I'm pretty sure it started with an f–sound, but it could also be an s…"

They excused themselves and went to see the little nurse who with wide eyes and hushed voice told them about the man who walked through people and desperately searched for something he lost, anguish in his voice and sometimes flipping over things when he couldn't find it.

"I say we'll come back here at night," Robert murmured and Evan was quick to agree. At least he'd get out of the hospital for a little while now.

* * *

Having a man on the inside was glorious. Doctor Stevens made sure they didn't have to worry about the security cameras and kept the hallways the spirit haunted clear. The light was dimmed and the white walls shadowed, making them seem bigger than they were. An eerie silence stretched over the hospital and the shotgun loaded with salt was cold in Evan's sweaty hands. Robert chuckled lowly as Evan startled at the sudden distant coughing behind a closed door (he did absolutely not squeak, shut up Rob). Hospitals were _freaky_, alright?

After fifteen uneventful minutes the lights started to flicker and the EMF meter flashed red. Further along the corridor around the corner someone was calling out, a mix of annoyance and desperation in his voice. Rob and Evan exchanged a quick look before gripping their weapons tighter and stalking forward.

"This isn't funny anymore. Where are you? Please, just… Just tell me where you are. Hello? Hey! Where are you?"

Something inside Evan clenched and he wished that they didn't have to do this job. Hell, he could take down vengeful spirits who were full of anger, hate and bloodlust because they were _killing_ people, but this was merely a lost spirit. A lost spirit that was stupid enough to stay in this world instead of moving on.

Said spirit was clad in white hospital clothes and the only visible injury was a bloody gash across his forehead. He had yet to take notice of the two hunters and continued searching for whoever he had lost.

"Come on, now's not the time to play hide-and-seek… Where'd you go? Sam? _Sammy!_"

Evan shifted uneasily and Robert put a hand on Evan's shotgun. "No use pissing him off," he breathed. "We'll skip the _shoot first ask questions later_ rule this time – only shoot if he charges."

The spirit peeked into a hospital room before disappointedly continuing walking, calling out for this Sam person again.

Robert casually stepped forward, only the tense line of his shoulders revealing the discomfort. "Who's Sam?" he asked and the spirit whirled around to face them.

His eyes narrowed as he quickly scanned them before answering with a hope marred with suspicion filled tone; "You've seen him?"

"I don't know," Robert shrugged. "What does he look like?"

The spirit walked closer. "Uh – he's tall, like, _really_ tall," he held a hand above his own head "shaggy brown hair in need of a cut, kicked-puppy-eyes, broody type… You've seen anyone like that? Anyone at all?"

"Ah, I'm not sure… But there's a lot of people in the hospital, and maybe we could help you find him if-"

"Uh-hu, I'm sure," the spirit interrupted and eyed the shotguns poorly hidden behind the hunters' backs. "Yeah well, I think I'll be fine without your _help_." With that he turned his back towards them and took a deep breath. "_SAM_!"

_So what now? _Evan mouthed but Robert made a point of ignoring him.

"Listen here, we could really help you-"

"Save it, I don't have time for you." Did… did the spirit just flip them off? That was a new one.

"Trust me, you've got time. Time's probably the only thing you've got now."

"You're an awful ghost whisperer", the spirit grumbled under his breath.

Evan blinked. "Whoa, whoa, you're saying you _know_ that you're-"

"_Evan_," Robert hissed.

"I'm not going anywhere, you hear me?" the spirit shot back and the temperature lowered abruptly. "I'm not leaving my brother. He said I can't leave him alone. I _won't_ leave him." The spirit flickered out of sight only to reappear further away. "Dad? Come one dad, you here? Sammy? Dad!"

"Great," Robert growled. "Give me dead bloody cold axe-murderers and I'll handle it, but I don't know what to do with a ghost who wants a family reunion…"

"You're the one who wanted this job," Evan reminded him.

The spirit appeared to be annoyed with them and avoided them, but seemed to find pleasure in tricking them into running around the whole hospital trying to find him. He was also too smart to be caught behind salt lines and stayed away from any iron they had, and after a few hours the hunters had to admit defeat – this time. They still hadn't gotten any clues on his cause of death, which made them none the wiser of _who_ he was. Perhaps a few hours of sleep in the motel room would help them clear their thoughts…

As they prepared to leave the hospital Robert stopped dead-on and took a few steps backwards. He sniffed the air, frowned, and sniffed a few more times.

"Dude," Evan began slowly. "You look like a freaking dog."

Robert straightened and smirked that little self-satisfied smirk he always used when he was about to say something _meaningful_ or _dramatic_. "Have you noticed that the air is tainted with just a vague smell of gasoline whenever we get close to the spirit?"

* * *

Evan guessed he should be thankful he even got to sleep a little bit before Robert was up and going on about the hunt again. He was convinced that the spirit was a victim of a car crash (_gee, thanks a lot stupid gasoline smelly thing_) and considering they had nothing else to go on they were going through the hospital's records of fatal car crashes. It could be anyone, it could have happened god knows how long ago, and really, Evan was starting to understand why so many traffic rules and drive-safe-campaigns existed (_Jesus __**Christ**__ a lot of people died on the road)_.

"Uh, there's this Sam Harrison guy… Almost lost his leg in a crash a couple of years back," Evan squinted at the screen. "The guy with him bled out before the ambulance arrived and – oh never mind… They weren't brothers anyway. Besides, his ID-picture looks nothing like our friendly little spirit. Forget I said anything."

Robert grunted something in return.

Doctor Stevens had mentioned that the patient first started talking about the spirit a few years ago in July or August, and Robert was betting on that the months meant something. He was reading records like a madman, eyes never leaving the screen and fingers only straying from the computer mouse when he chugged down caffeine.

"Gotcha," Robert exclaimed a while (an eternity) later. "A truck rammed into a car back in 2006, fatally injuring one Dean Winchester_(1)_. He passed away a few days later due to inner bleeding, injuries to liver and kidneys and severe head trauma. Guess who drove the car? His brother, _Samuel_." Robert leaned back to stretch his no-doubt awfully stiff neck, looking terribly pleased with himself.

Evan pushed away his own laptop. "Think he's our guy?"

Robert hummed. "Pretty sure. The brother got away with mere bruises and scratches and signed himself out of the hospital almost immediately. Huh, you remember that spirit calling out for his dad a few times too? Looks like daddy, named John, was sitting in the front seat. Got away with a broken arm and bruised ribs," Robert clicked the screen and brought up the ID-photo of Dean Winchester. Spiked hair, smirk in place and lively eyes - it would be hard to picture him dead if they hadn't already seen his ghost. "Oh it's him alright. _Damn_, I'm good…" Robert stood up to fetch another cup of coffee and Evan scooted over to check the details of Dean's death.

"Yeah, congrats. Sorry to ruin the mood, but we can't just dig up his body and burn it. He was cremated."

"'Course he was…"

"The Winchesters don't seem to have a home address – think they're nomadic or something – and considering the hospital is the place he's haunting something of him must be left there. It could be anything if the spirit really wanted to stay; just a hair or some specks of blood on a forgotten sheet… We're lucky he wasn't an organ donator."

"Guess we'll have to look in his old room then. It's going to be bloody near impossible, but what other option do we have?" He was already shrugging on his jacket, ready to leave right away. Evan was not as sure, and it wasn't just because the thing he wanted most of all was to collapse straight into bed.

* * *

Evan had this peculiar feeling that the spirit, wherever it was, was laughing at them. Winchester surely had a good time when he checked what they were doing, but never stayed long enough to be caught or even talked to. Evan and Robert had searched every corner of the room and tried looking through the hospital for something that could have belonged to Dean. What had they come up with?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It would have made sense if he was haunting one of his family members, tied to some old belonging they kept as a memory, but then what was binding him to the hospital? It didn't make sense. There were no clues, no nothing, just a ghost shouting for his brother and –

Evan froze.

Could it be..? He had heard of it, but he knew Robert would scoff at him for the mere suggestion. But what the hell, it was worth a shot, right? It took several minutes to even find Robert, who was scanning the floor of another hospital room as though it held the answers to the universe. Evan cleared his throat and waited until the other man at least acknowledged him.

"So I was thinking," he started as Robert's head disappeared inside a cabinet. A snort and a mumbled _now that's a new one_ answered him. "We're obviously not going to find something here, and I really don't know what you're doing in here in the first place, so maybe we're looking at the wrong solution? I mean, we hunters always take care of vengeful spirits, but this sprit isn't _angry_. He hasn't even done anything wrong, why should we be trying to torch his ass?"

"If you're hoping to make a point you should probably hurry the hell up."

"I'm just saying… maybe we should try to talk to him."

A bang from a head striking wood and a loud curse followed. "Come again?"

"You know, all that go-into-the-light-crap and talking… maybe it would work. Yeah, maybe it's not a very popular way to do it, but it's worked for other hunters."

"Uh-huh. So let's say we do that and – what's your plan again? I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not exactly any charmers slash talkers."

"Maybe not _us_; but maybe his _brother _could. What if Sam is the thing keeping him here, because from what Dean told us it sounds like little brother was telling him not to go, not to leave."

"So, we're just going to find this Sam and tell him… what? _Hey by the way, that brother of yours is haunting a hospital and we need you to come and talk to him so he can go into the light? _I bet that'd work out well."

"We'll find a good reason, it's not like we haven't tricked people before."

"Right… Otherwise we can just find Sammy, knock him out and drag his ass back here," Robert muttered and straightened.

The lights flickered and the door behind Evan slammed shut, the room flooded by an unnatural chill. The spirit of Dean appeared before them but this time he didn't look lost or desperate. This time he looked like a predator and Evan found himself stepping backwards.

"What," he started with an ice-cold, deadly voice, "did you just say about my brother?"

Robert was quick to raise his hands in a peace-offering attempt. "Whoa, whoa, calm down there pal," he tried, voice immediately adapting a soothing tone _(useless)_ tone.

"Stay away from Sam."

Now Robert looked more or less insulted. "I ain't gonna _hurt_ the kid!"

The air didn't get any warmer, but hey, at least they weren't dead yet. It's a start. As an answer to his thoughts the horribly uncomfortable metal chairs started rattling and now Evan was pretty sure they were about to be killed. By freakin' flying _hospital_ chairs.

"I always knew those damn bastard chairs were going to be the end of me…" he muttered. Robert spared him a glare that promised a death before the chairs got to him before he turned back to the spirit.

"Listen here Dean, I get that you want to smack us around, the feeling is mutual, but if you'd just let us talk about-"

Two of the chairs skidded forward and screeched to halt in front of the hunters. Dean leaned back against the cabinets. "Then talk."

Evan hesitated briefly before sitting down on the offered chair, Robert reluctantly doing the same.

"So…" Robert began, leaning forward with an intense look on his face. "You know you're a spirit." Uh, yeah, so maybe Robert had had a point about them not being touchy-feels-talkers. Evan was pretty sure they weren't supposed to lull a spirit to the whatever-comes-after-world like that.

"If you're going to try some more ghost-whispering crap to make me _move on_ I'll make _you_ see the light," Dean deadpanned.

"So you actually _want_ to stay here, then?" Evan snorted. "You _like_ it here? What a wonderful place to spend the afterlife in." And another point to Robert "Hate to say it, but it's not exactly heaven."

"Right," Dean drawled "I'm sure you'd know what heaven is."

"Oh I dunno… I just didn't imagine it like a ratty old hospital."

"Tough shit, isn't it?" Dean pushed away from the cabinet and ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't hurt anyone. There's no reason for the two of you to be here."

Robert cleared his throat. "I hope you know what happens in all the horror movies when a ghost is walking around. Now, you may not have lost your mind yet, but stay here another ten, twenty, thirty years and I can assure you that you won't be your normal, charming self anymore. Even the nicest person turned ghost becomes something entirely different, sooner or later."

"There's always Caspar the friendly ghost", Dean quipped helpfully.

"Cute."

"Uh, listen, what we're trying to say…" Evan hurried. "I still find it hard to believe you want to stay here, and we think we might know what's keeping you here."

"What? You're going to try to burn my remains? Some of my possessions?"

Evan chose to _not_ think about just why Dean knew about the salt-and-burn technique, for the moment he was busy. "No… We think it might be your brother. And for the record, _**no**_, we are _not_ talking about burning your brother, geez," and yes, Evan thought he was more than justified to assure the spirit about that. "If we could bring you brother here, the two of you could have a long-overdue little chat. You've been searching for him for years: don't you think it'd be nice to finally see him?"

Something flickered in Dean's eyes and a little bit of the hostility faded away. The doubt and mistrust lingered but at least they had caught his interest.

"We're not the bad guys," Robert added in the silence that followed.

Dean looked torn but their breath didn't come out in clouds of white smoke anymore, the warmth slowly seeping back into the room. The spirit itself drew in an unneeded, slow breath as to compose him before meeting their gazes.

"Tell him the truth and he'll be here, but trust me, if you so much as bend a hair on his head… I will rip you apart. I'll fucking kill you both," he hissed out before disappearing in a heartbeat and the lights grew stronger around them again.

Evan flopped back against the hard chair and let out a small whoop. "You know, for a second I really thought we'd die. Killed by hospital chairs. I mean, can you imagine what our tombstones would say? Of course, it's very unlikely that we'll _have _any tombstones… Maybe we'll become a funny story for hunters to tell each other; the two hunters who got their asses handed to them by hospi- _ow!_"

Robert cuffed the back of his head without as much as a look at him and dragged his own chair to its place. "We still have one Winchester left to convince."

* * *

They made it back to their motel room in record time and Robert was armed with his laptop in the blink of an eye. Evan decided he was too lazy to hurry – he doubted he'd find anything before Robert anyway. He should probably get them coffee; Evan might consider himself a coffee-addict but that was _nothing_ compared to Robert practically inhaling caffeine like his life depended on it. Then again, maybe it really did…

A peek over Robert's shoulder revealed that he had found Sam Winchester's file, and within moments he'd either start talking about locations, phone numbers, or –

"_**Shit!**_"

- start swearing.

"What going on?"

Robert dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his forehead. "You've got any other genius plans hidden up your sleeve?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Huh? What's wrong with the Sam-plan?"

"Well when has anything _ever_ been that easy for us, hm? I don't know how we're going to show our faces at Riverview hospital without being killed…" At Evan's puzzled expression he growled but didn't bother telling what he'd found out.

"Care to share with class?"

Robert shoved his laptop away before changing his mind and dragging it closer again. "Sam Winchester was found dead on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere back in 2007."

Evan's throat felt as dry as a desert. "Was he..?"

"Killed? Yes. Knife wound in the back plus multiple bruises covering the body. Jesus. Someone stabbed little brother Winchester and dropped him off on a muddy road, killer was never found. No clues, no nothing. He had pretty much vanished after Dean was killed – that is, of course, until they found the corpse…"

"…Shit," Evan agreed and slumped down next to Robert. Screw coffee, they'd most likely need something stronger. Write testaments. Send notes to friends and family about their incoming death. Make funeral arrangements. He wondered who the suspect would be after their bodies were found. Maybe he should stay here instead of going to the light to find out? Haunt the hospital with Winchester and tell him horrible puns just for revenge?

"Yeah, we'll definitely keep our shotguns loaded with salt close to us next time we visit the hospital," Robert muttered and shot accusing glances at the laptop as though it was the computer's fault. In the corner of the screen was a photo of a smiling Sam Winchester. He thought it was ironic to have such a happy picture right next to the description of the person's death. Evan scrolled down to read about the younger Winchester – might come in handy to know something about him.

"Smart kid," he remarked lowly, "Full ride to Stanford, straight A-student. Spent his childhood moving around with his father and brother, mother died when both brothers were small…"

"Spare me the details," Robert cut off.

Silence.

"Do you… think we could get a hold of John Winchester then?"

"He's been missing for years. Presumed dead. Even if we could find him, it's not him Dean wants to talk to, and guess what? _You're_ the one who gets to tell him where Sam is, 'cause I sure as hell can't break the news gently. Give it a try. Now go get me a blackest of black cup of coffee; this was your idea and if I don't get my coffee I'll –"

Evan was already out the door, ready to fetch two of the biggest cups coffee he could find.

* * *

_**1) The Winchesters' fake name in this episode was McGillicuddy but hey, this is fanfiction. If I want them to use their real names then they do.**_

**So much for writing a one-shot. Should I continue? As always, reviews equals oxygen! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Big thanks to everyone who reviewed! :)**

* * *

Evan ended up fetching coffee twice, because Robert was a frickin' bossy bastard _(not your damn slave, Rob)_. But he had to admit it was easier to pump themselves full of caffeine than to figure out what to do next. Hey, everyone's got their own addictions. Some people turn to alcohol, some to drugs, some to sex or god knows what. Being high on a few mugs of coffee too much was still a healthier habit by far.

It was supposed to be an easy job, just a quick salt and burn and leave the next day. Piece of cake. The words "easy job" should be banned from every hunter's vocabulary.

Robert had, again, been scrolling through his computer like a madman for the last couple of hours, searching for any kind of information. Evan didn't even have a clue what they were supposed to be looking for, but at least he was smart enough to not say that out loud.

Now, however, Robert was stock-still and staring at the screen as though it would be intimidated by him and start spewing out answers. Judging by the staring and Robert's obsession with the thing Evan was starting to suspect some kind of M-rated love story between Rob and his laptop.

The lack of the familiar clicking and tapping at keyboards made the silence seem far heavier and Evan leaned to the side in hope of catching a look at what his partner was staring at.

It was three individual photos in line: one for each Winchester.

"Winchester," Robert said slowly, tasting the name and rolling it between his teeth. "Winchester, Winchester, chester, tester… Why is the name so familiar?"

Evan perked up. "You knew these guys?"

Robert snorted. "If I _knew_ them don't you think I'd _recognize _them? No, it's more like… I think I've met – or heard of- or maybe I've…" Robert drummed his fingers against his thigh, clearly frustrated by his own failing memory. "Damn it! I can't remember!"

Letting the older man blow off some steam was the best option, so the best thing Evan could do in return was to shut his mouth. Thing is, leaving Evan in the silence was never a good idea, because then he started _thinking_… Ever so slowly, the beginning of a plan started to take place. If Robert thought his _last_ plan was stupid, he'd probably drop dead when he heard the new one _(and didn't that make it even better)_. Evan should probably stop thinking _right now_, but… too late.

Sam-plan#2 was already born.

Now he just had to figure out how to propose the new, glorious plan to Rob.

…Screw trying to be cautious. Let's just get straight to business.

"Sooo," Evan started. "What happened to Sam's body?"

Robert stiffened. "No."

"…No?"

"No."

"No what?"

"You're using _that_ voice. The _I-just-came-up-with-something-crazy-but-don't worry-it's-brilliant_ voice, and that's **never** a good thing. So whatever you're thinking, the answer's no."

"But you don't even know what I'm thinking.

"Thank god."

"Fine," Evan huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's _your_ plan, then?"

"Better than yours," Robert replied smoothly.

"Rob!"

"I'm working on it."

Evan pouted at him but he was pointedly ignored, so instead he decided to hack into Sam Winchester's file by himself. Why had he even asked Rob in the first place? A few minutes and clicking later he had his answer: just like his brother, Sam had been cremated. Any possessions? Nothing "of value" anyway. That was the first thing he'd need for this: some kind of connection to the deceased younger Winchester…

Evan hesitated briefly about the next step in Sam-plan#2 before shrugging, thinking what the hell. Hacking into databases wasn't really high on their list of smart-things-to-do, especially not when it came to FBI. But what else could he do? Yes, he could dress up and grab another fake ID, pretend to be an FBI agent buuuut…. He was lazy, he didn't want to, and god knew where he would _go_.

He needed the coroner's report and the photos of the younger Winchester's body, injuries and possession, needed to read into his death and about the suspects.

Preferably only the photos. He had always liked to look at the pictures instead of reading the text _(and man, did that sound messed up in his current situation)_.

* * *

Evan rubbed a hand over his mouth and ignored his inner voice chanting _coffee_ over and over again. He'd gotten his hands on some of the crime photos of Sam Winchester's body sprawled out in the dirt of the road, muddy, bloody clothes and pale, bruised face. He was awkwardly laying on his left side, half-turned on his back with one cheek pressed into the dirt; the position he'd fallen into after his body had been dumped from a truck.

The police suspected it was some sort of serial killer: dozens of young people in the age of 22 to 23 had been found over the months, all of them apathetically dumped by the road, no connection between the victims except for the age, and their deaths were all different.

Sam Winchester's spinal cord was severed, one Ava Wilson was found after five months with a broken neck, a Lily Baker with a colorful ring of bruises around her stiff neck had been hanged, while some poor soul identified as Andy Gallagher had gotten his chest torn apart…

No motives, no suspects, no nothing had been figured out. Evan wondered briefly if any hunter back then had tried to investigate the case.

He frowned at the screen as something caught his eye and zoomed in on it. There was a golden amulet resting against Sam's chest, almost hidden under his jacket, and Evan was certain he'd seen that ugly necklace before. He minimized the window on the laptop and brought up a photo of a very much alive Dean Winchester in another window.

Bingo.

The black cord around the older Winchester's neck was connected to the same golden amulet Sam was wearing in death. Now Evan could only hope that it hadn't been burned with Sam, and if not there was this tiny problem where the hell it had ended up. The amulet had to be good enough for the "connection" to Sam, considering it seemed important to both Winchesters.

Robert's phone started ringing but he didn't pay any attention to Robert swearing to the caller and say someone'd come over. A hand slammed down on his laptop to shut it and Evan chose to ignore the horrible shrieking noise he made _(it was his __**laptop**__ for God's sake, be careful!)_.

"You're currently banned from your computer," Robert icily informed him.

"_What? Why?_" And no, he was not wailing.

"Stevens called again and _apparently_ our friendly little ghostie Dean-o who, mind you, has been a very polite ghostie until now, got a bit excited about the thought of seeing his little brother again."

"…Shit."

"Shit indeed. Don't worry, he hasn't hurt anyone and he's not mad, it's the complete opposite. There's been some freak-outs around there because of people _'seeing a ghost'_ and Stevens is pretty freaked out himself. Dean decided he wanted some news and caused some kind of supernatural lockdown of Steven's office to try to talk to him. As predicted, Stevens almost shit himself," Robert threw Evans jacket in his face. "Dean wants to talk to us. I've taken the liberty to change the plural to singular: he gets to talk with _you._ I suggest you don't tell him the truth."

Evan spluttered. "I… Why do _I _have to that? And why do I have to go alone? I thought you were the one who said splitting up is asking to be killed?"

"Well, smartass, you're the one who told him he'd get to see his brother _before_ we checked if Sammy was breathing. Plus, that little shit Dean is annoying and I'm more likely to piss him of."

"Huh, so… so what are you going to do?"

"Me? Oh _I_ will try to find a way to clean up after you, and by that I mean I will find a banishing spell to get that ghost away from the hospital and hopefully away from earth permanently. Shut up. I know you're set on this talking and caring and helping poor ghostie right now, but we don't have time for that crap. What the hell would you tell Dean anyway without making him go on a rampage? Listen here: you go lie to him and keep him calm while I find a way to do some Ghostbuster move on him."

That wasn't something Evan was agreeing with, but he didn't get a chance to argue before he was pushed out the door again. Alright, he was on board with the plan of lying about Sam _(yes, yes he is as alive as any alive person could ever be, Mr. Winchester)_ but he'd rather not… _banish_ the poor bastard.

Anyhow, Evan found himself standing awkwardly outside the hospital, wondering if he should try to find an empty room or find Doctor Stevens first. Stevens beat him to the punch by finding him first and thanked him for coming, still obviously shaken by the little ghost visit. Evan wondered just how enthusiastic Dean had been while trying to get some update on the hunt for his brother.

Stevens practically shoved him into a free room _(getting damn tired of being pushed around)_ and the door wasn't even completely shut before Dean stood in front of him. To be fair, he was far more composed than Evan had imagined _(he was not dancing, skipping, giggling or singing)_ but he was still lightly bouncing on his heels, impatient and giddy and grinning.

"You are _far_ too happy for a dead person," Evan remarked.

"Don't be a racist, you twat."

"Don't call me twat, you… freak."

"Whatever, twat. So?" he walked closer and raised an eyebrow. "Any news? Do you have a lead on Sammy? Is he on his way? Is he okay? How long's it gonna take?"

"Dude. _Chill_. We were here _yesterday_, things like this take time. We're not able to have him shipped here overnight, so we need _you_ to calm the fuck down. I get that you're excited, but terrorizing staff isn't going to make anything happen faster."

Dean scoffed and crossed his arms. "I didn't terrorize anyone. I was merely trying to talk to the good doctor, but he decided to be a little bitch."

"…Because people usually react to ghosts without running or screaming, right?"

"Stevens was the one who called the two of you though, so I assumed he'd be familiar with paranormal stuff. Not my fault he's a chicken."

Yeah, so he wasn't even going to ask why Dean knew that in the first place.

"Yeah. Um. So, no harm done, but could you just stay here and… do whatever the hell ghosts do that don't involve killing or scaring or haunting or something like that – "

"Isn't that what ghosts do?"

"- while we continue searching for Sam, alright? See it like this: the more you scare people, the more Steven's going to call us, and then we'll come over, and the longer it'll take to find your brother. Okay?"

It wasn't really giving Dean a guilt-trip, and he didn't look guilty _about_ it, but even hinting towards the guilt card made Evan's guts churn with shame. He really, really didn't like lying about this, but on the other hand he really, really didn't want to see Dean's reaction to his brother's death. Especially not when said brother had been_ murdered_.

If he was able to cause a supernatural lockdown just because he wanted to talk, a similar lockdown plus taking down two hunters by wondering if someone was _thinking_ about hurting his brother, then it was best to not find out what he could do if he heard the truth.

And let's not forget that they didn't have any way of stopping him. Or slowing him down. And they were in a hospital filled with patients. No pressure.

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly. "Right."

"I'll better get back soon, and… help Rob with some research and find out Sam's location – "

The shit-eating-grin returned and Dean winked at him. "Better hurry up then, twat."

Poof. Gone. Fabulous exit by disappearing into thin air like some kind of drama queen.

"Fucking show-off," Evan muttered to the empty room before stalking out.

* * *

Robert had managed to find some possible spells they could use to banish Dean from the world of living, but he wanted to be very neat about this. Hunts involving hospitals were always a little tricky, so the more time they spent preparing the better.

The older hunter didn't want to hear about Evan's wonderful plan after he tried to ask some more about Sam Winchester _(body, ashes, clothes, possessions, do you think the police kept something of his?)_ and promptly told him to shut the fuck up and help him with the banishing.

Well. Now it was personal. A battle of _whose-plan/spell-is-better_. Nothing else of course – Evan was not sympathizing with a ghost. Nah.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Evan had declared as he marched out the door with all the grace of a rebellious teenager. It's not like Robert had tried to stop him _(Rob's his hunting partner, not his mother, for the love of god)_ but it was clear that he disapproved of Evan's actions.

Evan also decided to **not** think about Robert's reaction after he realized Evan borrowed his car _(__**their **__car, __**their**__ car!)_. He wasn't going to drive very far… just a few hours there and back, that's all.

Despite his earlier decision that he wasn't going to impersonate any kind of agent or police he was now wearing his suit and waving an FBI badge in a young police officer's face, asking to see what was left of Sam's possessions. She looked closely at it before nodding shortly.

"It's right over here, sir. May I ask just why the FBI is interested in the Sam Winchester case now all of sudden? I thought it was closed years ago?"

He cleared his throat and put away the fake badge. "We might have some new leads coming up, so we'll just need to take a look at the evidence again. Search for some… clues." Yeah, that didn't sound awkward at all.

"I don't know what kind of clues you feds are going to get from this, but alright…" Her hands skimmed over the many white boxes before stopping at one marked 2007 and too many weird numbers underneath. "We burned the clothes, but what meager possessions he owned are here. Silver watch, necklace, wallet… Whoever killed the poor kids didn't rob 'em. God knows what the hell the motives for the murdering were."

Evan smiled his thanks as she placed the box on the white table for him to search through. She gave him a small smile in return and went back to the previous room, making sure to leave the door open. The objects were inside small plastic bags and he let his gaze pass over the watch specked with a few drops of blood, peeked at the wallet pretending to be interested, before greedily picking up the bag containing the small amulet.

Thank god for giving him a little luck in the middle of all his bad luck. It could have been a hell lot more difficult to find the necklace than it was.

"Excuse me," he called out to get the officer's attention. "I'm ready to go, and I'm sure you won't mind if I take the evidence with me immediately. Is that alright?"

"Sure. Do you have written permission for taking it with you?"

Well shit. "Uh, I'm afraid I don't."

"Sorry pal, but in that case it'll have to stay here." She was watching him closely now, and although Evan wanted to press further he swallowed his argument and forced another smile onto his face.

"Of course," he said nicely enough and waited until she had turned around before slipping the small bag into his sleeve _(bad idea, bad idea, you moron)_. He stiffly thanked her and made himself wait until she had put away the box before walking out from the station to the car.

Only when the car rumbled to life and he was driving away did he breathe easier again. He felt ridiculously much like a kid shoplifting candy for the first time.

He got back to their motel in the middle of the night –oh look, leaning towards morning– and refused to think about how much fuel he'd wasted during his little trip. Evan tried to sneak into the dark room without waking Robert, but got a pillow in his face and curses in reward.

"Not my fault you're a light sleeper," Evan grumbled before collapsing down on his own bed.

* * *

He was ripped away from his lovely dreamland by someone who yanked away the covers and proceeded to push him off the bed. Evan moaned and forced his eyes open to blearily look up at the clock. 06:46.

"Why would you wake me at such an ungodly hour?" he groaned miserably.

"Ungodly for you maybe, you lazy ass. Come on, up."

"But _whyy_?"

"I need coffee. I blame you for the happy ghostie at the hospital who might just turn homicidal. Therefor you shall get me coffee for the next couple of weeks. Also, you took my car and if you don't get me coffee I will sit on you."

Fair enough. Besides, he needed to get out to make a phone call anyway. But the bed's so incredibly inviting… On the other hand, the thought of Robert crushing him somehow wasn't as tempting.

The sun assaulted him as soon as he got outside and he blindly made his way towards the coffee shop he bought coffees from last time. He fished up his phone and stared blankly at the screen before remembering who he was supposed to call. Yeah, this was going to be a fun chat… The phone was answered after four rings.

"_Who the hell is this?"_

"Singer, hey! Uh, great to hear your voice, old man. It's Evan here, if you remember – "

"_Uh-huh, whatever. What do you want?"_

"We're sort of dealing with an, um. Unique hunt, and Rob and I disagree on how to deal with it."

"_Skip to what you need, I ain't got all day."_

"Okay. I need a spell to summon a spirit from the Beyond. Or whatever you wanna call the afterlife."

An exasperated sigh from the other end.

"_Why?"_

"You sound absolutely thrilled, Bobby. Fine, I'm getting to it!" He gave Singer a short summary of the spirit in the hospital and the brother who unfortunately was dead, keeping it strict and skipping over the small details such as names and dates. Singer wasn't exactly known for his patience nowadays.

"_You're a goddamn moron, you know that kid?"_

"So I've been told."

"_Loose the attitude if you want me to stay on the phone. Now let me get this straight: you promised a spirit it'd get to see its brother again, found out he's dead, and now you want to bring back the __**brother's**__ spirit too?"_

"That's… pretty much it. Sir."

"_That's pretty much __**stupid**__, boy." _Another sigh. _"But I can't say Rob's plan is so much better either. Banishing spells without any part of the spirit's body or belongings are risky at their best. Do you at least have anything of the younger brother's to use?"_

Finally a good question! "Yep, I do."

"_Huh. Well that's great and grand, but do you realize how much research I'll have to go through for this spell? How much time I'll waste? And just how many demons that escaped from hell back in 2007 that my hands still are full of?"_

"Um. Help out a fellow hunter?"

"_And just what the hell do you think I normally do? 'Help out a fellow hunter', boy I was helping hunters before you were even born – "_

"No no, sorry, that's not what I meant! Uh, look, I'm in the neighborhood so I could probably drop by and – "

"_And what? Help me with research? You?"_

"I can bring a few six-packs of beer."

"_Now we're talking."_

* * *

**Enter grumpy Bobby! Also, I'm pretending that all the Special Children's bodies were picked up from Cold Oak and randomly left in middle-of-nowhere-roads. Because why not?**

**Reviews equal writing-fuel for every little writer!**


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